


Prequel to Happier Things

by Pluvicorn



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluvicorn/pseuds/Pluvicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asking someone out is hard. Being rejected it even harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prequel to Happier Things

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote that was going to be the opening to different pairing than Dirk Jake. But I never got around to writing the actual fic. Perhaps some day?

Your name is Dirk Strider and right now you are trying your hardest to keep a straight face. Of course, you aren’t trying too hard, because as a Strider you were conditioned to be like a glacier, your chill never breaking. Being able to take down metaphorical cruise ships of emotions is something you can do without a second thought. You were the iceberg and the emotions that a non-Strider would have got sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic without so much as a chip of ice missing. Was it still considered ‘too soon’ to make a Titanic joke? Did people even really care? Why were you letting your mind wander to being emotionally sensitive about a disaster that happened however long ago (because, no, you did not care enough to actually look up the exact date of the sinking and do the math up to today so that your sentence was historically accurate) while something a little more important was happening?

Mostly to stop from crying, you guessed.

Because in front of you, was the love of your life turning you down. That’s what was going on right? You could tell from his awkward shuffling and the pulling he was doing to his shirt collar, that that was in fact what was going on.

Huh.

“So Strider, you see... not that I don’t think you aren’t a completely wonderful chap! Right bang-up fellow!” He insisted, though he wasn’t looking his green eyes into your reflective shades. Which was just causing you to internally sigh. Come on English, just get on with it. Not that his stammering and sweating wasn’t the most adorably heartbreaking thing you’ve ever seen in your life, but the least he could do was not drag on this embarrassing display for longer than it needed to go on for.

“But I simply don’t have... gosh it feels warm in here!” A subject change, really? You keep on that passive monotonous face of cool. And you have to say you are quite proud of yourself for it. Hell, if it was anyone other than you they would have cracked under the pressure. Any lesser man would have been on his knees and weeping like a child at this point in time. Jake English was a love terrorist. To be honest you couldn’t think of a way he could have made this WORSE. But you had to give him credit for doing his hardest to make this interaction more painful than having a root canal. Without morphine you would also add.

“I mean to say that I don’t see you more than... well one of my mates!” he finally said, then looking up at you. As if he was making sure you weren’t hurt. As if he cared about your feelings in the least. Which you knew he did. Which was why you did what you knew you were going to have to.

“Hey, no problem man. Just felt the need to get this shit off my chest.” you shrug your shoulders, as if it was no big deal. As if your insides weren’t like hot acid and you felt like throwing up. As if there wasn’t a little sting in the corner of your eyes that was obviously not tears. Because Striders didn’t cry.

“Honest Strider?” Jake asked, as if wanting to double check, as if trying to make sure that you were alright with his ‘lets be friends’ speech. What cave did he get raised in where he thought saying ‘lets stay friends’ was something that would make everything okay? “I would feel frightfully chafed with myself if I had upset you.” He insisted, making this whole ordeal even more painful for you. He had to be doing this on purpose.

“Listen man, if you don’t feel like bumping uglies with me, I’m chill with that.” You insisted, raising your hands as if to show him you had nothing to hide. Even if you were hiding everything. You had to hand it to yourself, you should be given awards for your flawless acting. All of the awards. All of them. “So long as you don’t act like a complete douche and freak out around me like I’m some sort of gay alien then we’re cool.” You simply shrug again, putting your gloves hands into your pockets. So casual and so cool. Your Bro would be proud if he could see you now. Nothing could break you.

“Of course not!” Jake said, as if insulted by the idea, “Just because you enjoy other blokes does not stop you from being my best mate!” And then that dorkily attractive smile reached his lips. It took everything in you not to choke. Jake English was without a doubt, the most stupid man alive. You’d hate him if you didn’t know he didn’t mean to hurt you like this. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone. But he was so densely oblivious you wanted to grab him and shake him. But of course you don’t. You just stare into that smile like the fool you are, your heart breaking more.

“You... do still want to be my friend, don’t you Dirk?” He then asked, as if the words weren’t a dagger to your maiden heart. God, why did he have to look so sad? As if not being your friend would really hurt him. And what sucked the most about this whole horrible mess is that it would. So once again, it was up to your amazing acting skills to put his poor dorky mind at ease.

“Dude, our bromance is solid. I’m insulted you would even question me on the matter.” You reply flatly, and are met with a happy smile and a clasp to your shoulder. Which is fine. Since you two are still bros. And that was cool with you. Completely and utterly cool.

He stayed over and you continued to hang out as if nothing had happened. As if no confession had been made. As if you weren’t slowly bleeding out from the inside. And when he finally leaves, insisting that you two should definitely get together again soon, you are left in the emptiness that is your apartment. Which is fine, because you are totally use to being alone. Your older bro was gone most days working on his newest movie.

You leave the messy living room and push your way into your room, which was filled with electronic doo-dads and other such things. You had an affinity for robotics and liked to do some tinkering here and there. But right now, you didn’t even feel like looking at the room. You didn’t feel like looking at anything really. The only relief you felt was when you saw Lil Cal sitting there on your bed smiling at you. See, you weren’t completely alone. Cal was always there. You crawl into bed without changing into your awesomely ironic pink princess nighty, and just pull off your triangular shades and hug that plush chest into your face. It was a comforting hug you’ve gotten used to over the years, and it helped to calm you down. It helped to steady your nerves. Lil Cal was as much a part of your family as Bro was, and he helped you through so much shit it was crazy.

And right now, he was helping you fall asleep. And in the morning you would blame the wet stains on his shirt as the drool from the amount of awesome Z’s you knocked out. And not on sobbing, heartbroken girly tears. Because Striders did not cry. And you most certainly had not.


End file.
